


Greenfly

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [12]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: Belonging, Class Differences, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Servants, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: Can a man's worth can be judged by the quality of the flowers he gives?-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Greenfly

Daisy hurried the morning post up to Mr Turton where he was busy with breakfast. Not that he was busy as such, not really. He didn't have much to do there any more, as her Ladyship mostly served herself. He just hovered there, out of habit. And also to try and help limit the mess caused by the two children. Mess that he'd inevitably have to tidy up. 

They discuss the newspapers and chat, him and Lady Morgan - his silent butler routine was long gone in this household.

He ran his eyes over the letters, flicking through the envelopes, not needing to open any to note that there was nothing out of the ordinary there. Grocers bills, bank letters, the sort of thing that he could happily deal with later, in the quiet of his office. Apart from one, a personal letter, addressed to the Countess. He didn't recognise the handwriting on the envelope.

"A letter for you, Ma'am," he walked over and offered the letter to her.

"Oh! Thank you Mr Turton. I wasn't expecting anything…" she smiled up at him. Her smile fell and her voice trailed away as she moved her gaze from him to the handwriting spelling out her address. She frowned, then ripped the letter open, taking not the slightest bit of care over it. 

He watched as she read it, her face mirroring her mood and dropping further as she did so. The letter, once read, was scrunched up in her fist. He frowned, wondering what the letter contained to warrant such a reaction. _Nothing good,_ he mused.

"Mr Turton?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"A Lord Ashton will be calling upon me this afternoon. For tea," she sighed.

"Yes, Ma'am. You'll be accepting his visit or…?"

"Can you arrange for tea in the drawing room for two o'clock," she didn't look at him, but instead continued to frown at the crumpled up letter that was tightly clenched in her grip.

"Not Lord Ashton, mummy?"

She looked up at her son, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yes love. I'm afraid so."

"But he's soooooo boring! I overheard him last time he was here. He just talked about _fishing_ all the time!"

"Yes he is rather boring, but we have to remember to try and be polite. Yes?"

"Yes mummy."

"Maybe ask Nanny Jones if you can take a walk to the park, oh around two o'clock?" Mr Turton whispered to Master Edward, causing the young boy to grin widely up at him.

-

He was working away in the dining room, tidying up after breakfast, pondering on who the hell this Lord Ashton was. He didn't like her reaction to that letter. Not one bit. He needed to finish off here quickly then go and see Mrs Brown. Maybe she would know more. His musings were interpreted when he heard a small cough. He looked up and her Ladyship's son snuck into the room and crept up to him.

"Mr Turton?" he whispered.

"Yes, Master Edward?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Mr Turton stilled his hands and waited. _He looks rather serious for such a small child._

"You remember when I said about mummy crying?"

"Yeees. Has she been crying recently?" he asked. His mind raced, trying to figure out if he'd done something wrong, and if so, what he could do to remedy it.

"No."

The young boy's short answer snapped his thoughts back to the present.

"But one of the times that she did, _a lot_ , was the last time that Lord Ashton visited. She cried an awful lot those nights…"

"Oh…" he frowned. "Thank you master Edward. You'd best run along back to Nanny Jones before you get into trouble. And don't worry, I'll take care of everything," he smiled down at the young lad, glad that he'd thought of his mother, of protecting her. And also proud that the boy had come to him, trusting him enough that he would be the one best able to help his mother.

Edward nodded his head, smiling at Mr Turton and sped off.

-

"Mrs Brown, who is Lord Ashton?"

"Oh," her usually happy face creased up, her brows furrowing heavily. "Is it that time of year already?" she frowned. "He's a cousin twice removed from something or other. Although _he_ needs to be bloody removed if you asks _me_!" she tutted. "He makes a pilgrimage to London once a year to try his luck with the missus. She ends up having to make some excuse or another to turn him down, letting him down gently without ruffling his poor, fragile, male ego," she rolled her eyes, "usually at the end of a week of the blasted ninny calling round and stressing her out! He's just after her money, not interested in herself. But then that's how it usually goes with the toffs, eh?" she shrugged.

Mr Turton nodded, digesting all of the information he'd just acquired. 

"He's no Lord Byerly. Not violent or possessed of a cruel streak. So you needn't worry about _that_ , from what she's told me. Which isn't much to be honest, she's always been a bit tight lipped about him, even after all the years I've known her," she shook her head. "I've not quite got to the bottom of why she's so upset about him coming round. I mean, he's dull but harmless from what I can see. Just a bit pushy is all. Won't take a hint. If I was her Ladyship I'd just tell him to piss off, but she's far too much 'the polite upper class Lady' for her own good," she shrugged.

Mr Turton frowned, _yes she wouldn't want to cause offence, or a fuss, even if it were warranted._ He was liking this Lord less and less, the more Mrs Brown divulged about him.

-

He decided to ask her himself. Certain that, for once, he could find out what Mrs Brown couldn't. He found her in the drawing room, he stood in the doorway a while, watching her pace. She walked, back and forth, pausing every now and then to wring her hands. He coughed to announce his presence.

"Ma'am?"

"Oh! Mr Turton…" she halted, spinning to face him. Upon seeing him, her frown almost lifted, being replaced by a small, fleeting smile.

"So... Lord Ashton, I've not heard him mentioned before?" he asked, treading carefully with both his words and his feet as he drew nearer to her.

"No," she sighed. "I thought I'd avoided his visit, it being past the usual time of year that he calls upon me…" Her frown returned. 

His head moved, following her movements as she resumed her pacing. Her frown intensified then went then came back, an outer show of an inner battle. He didn't push for more from her, patiently waiting for her to reveal her obvious worries. She stopped. _A decision made then?_ he thought and waited. 

"I'm glad you found me. I know I've imposed more than should be rightly warranted upon you, since you started here," she said as she resumed her pacing.

"There has been no imposition," he reassured her.

She paused, looking up at him, smiling at his answer. Her pacing continued.

"I've… I've never imposed on anyone about such a… delicate matter before now, but after last year, when he was worse than usual, I feel that I must. And I have no one else that I can trust as much as yourself Mr Turton," she paused to look up at him again. 

He nodded, permission granted for her to continue. 

"Please don't feel obliged to say yes… I know how busy you are…but… I feel compelled to ask a favour of you… for your help," she stopped, facing away from him, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes downcast.

"Of course! You only have to say and I'll be happy to oblige!" He took a step towards her. Standing in front of her, forcing her to abandon the pacing that she looked about set to resume.

Her head snapped up, her eyes looking up at him, letting out a small, gasped laugh as she registered his answer. "You don't even know what I'll ask yet. It could be anything!" she waved a hand around, her usual smile returning somewhat. "It could be to read one of the Shakespeare plays that you detest so much with me… or… or to help me move furniture… or to… to _murder_ someone!" she whispered the last part while smiling and leaning towards him, placing a small hand upon his forearm.

He looked down at her hand, resting there on his arm, then looked up, returning her small smile with one of his own. Relieved that she seemed to have partially returned to her usual cheery self, instead of the angst filled person that he had found earlier.

"Come now, I know that you wouldn't be that mean to me, taking advantage of my good nature to perform a dastardly deed like agreeing to read Shakespeare! So…" he leaned down towards her, mimicking her hushed tone, "…who is it exactly that we are murdering? Is it Lord Ashton?" he asked, waiting for her response, to see if he'd guessed correctly.

He watched as she removed her hand from his arm, sighing and turning away from him.

"That would be one solution to my little problem I suppose. But getting his blood out of the rug in here would be an awful chore, and I'm so very fond of it. The rug, that is. Not him."

He nodded. "So… what would you be requiring from me, Ma'am?" he asked gently, not wanting to lower her mood again. He took a step to the side, to try and catch her eyes again. 

She kept her head lowered, turning from him, her eyes downcast.

"When you bring the tea up here, when he visits later today, could you stay, instead of leaving as you would normally do?" she directed her voice towards her feet, her hands wringing around each other once again.

"In the room here?" he asked, again tilting his head, still trying to catch her elusive gaze.

She lifted her head up slowly, her eyes glistening. She peered up at him, her hands clenched tightly together in front of her. "Yes… Please…" she whispered.

He leant down towards her, keeping a gentle smile on his face. "Yes. Of course! It is no matter at all," he said, keeping his voice as soft and as steady as he could make it. 

She looked up, choking out a small reply. "Thank you," her eyes glistened, becoming waterlogged, but a small smile played upon her face.

He frowned, his keen mind had possibly hit on the problem, but he had to tread carefully. He took a small step closer to her, moving to stand in front of her again.

"Does he… does he try anything with you? Does he… take _liberties_?" he asked, working hard to keep his voice low and soft, even though his fists were clenched tightly.

"Not really… maybe…" she whispered. "He… he just gets too close sometimes… not letting go when I ask him to… it's nothing really, I'm probably being silly… I should say no, not let him visit, but… he is family, however distant. It would be rude not to let him call upon me…" she kept her gaze cast down, shaking her head, her voice trailing off. She took a deep breath, then continued. "He's just so _persistent!_ Pushing and pushing at me!" she looked up at him, her hands wringing around each other again. "He gets around the usual conventions by being family, but once he's here, family is anything _but_ what he wants. Apart from to join mine and his closer together by my marriage to him." she paused again, to gather herself. "He gets worse each year. Trying to force me into making a rash decision, into agreeing to something that I don't want to, just to get him to stop… to stop his… _attentions_ …" She looked up, looking directly at him. "I just thought… maybe… if you were in the room too…?" she took a step towards him.

He matched her step with one of his, closing their distance apart, holding a hand out, wanting to comfort her, but losing his nerve. Knowing that it would be wrong of him to instigate anything of the sort, even if it felt so right. He clenched his hand, dropping it at the last minute. The need to keep to the strict rulings of class and society, screamed at him, overriding any emotional needs. There were some lines that his years of service, years of repression and ingrained training urged him to adhere to. They forbade him from crossing them, even in this extremely unorthodox household. They told him that convention would deplore him and her for transgressing the rules, even if he wished to. Even if he'd traversed so many already, just here, now in this room. 

"Don't worry. I'll be there for you," he said, offering her what he hoped was a comforting smile instead of the gentle, reassuring touch that she probably needed.

She sent him a small, watery smile in return.

-

Mr Turton opened the front door.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Lord Ashton! Is Lady Morgan in? She's expecting me." 

"Yes, Sir. If you would follow me, Sir."

Mr Turton watched as the Lord removed his hat and gloves, passing them to him to be placed on the side table, then followed him into the drawing room.

"I got you some flowers Gisella!" Lord Ashton brushed past Mr Turton and rushed towards Lady Morgan. 

Mr Turton noticed her flinch.

"Oh, thank you," she pulled away from the Lord, moving her head back to avoid the receipt of an unwanted kiss. She looked at the flowers briefly but didn't take them.

"Here, deal with these would you," Lord Ashton thrust the flowers at Mr Turton, not even looking at him, just pushing them into his hands.

Mr Turton frowned down at the poor roses.

"Could you bring the tea please Mr Turton," she smiled weakly over at him.

"Certainly, Ma'am. Right away. I won't be long."

-

He sped down to the kitchen. Mrs Brown had the tea tray all set up, just like he'd asked her to. 

"I just need to deal with _these!_ " He looked down at the 'flowers'. he'd never seen such poor excuses for roses in his life. The leaves had black spots, the flower heads were droopy and the petals were browning, the stems were full of sharp, evil looking thorns. 

He swiftly, strode outside and placed the poor, neglected things straight onto Mr Jones's compost heap. 

Then he went back through, collected the tea tray, giving Mrs Brown a hard stare in exchange for her laughter. He then rushed as fast as he could, back upstairs. 

-

He poured her Ladyship a cup of tea, offering her a small, comforting smile as she accepted the teacup and saucer from him. 

"Thank you, Mr Turton," Lady Morgan said. 

She offered him a smile, he returned it with a nod. They shared a look of pain and sympathy for each other having to suffer listening to Lord Ashton drone on and on about salmon. He eyed the Lord from the corner of his eye as he worked. Noting the overly pomaded hair and a dress sense bordering on eye-watering as far as colour was concerned. 

"Lord Ashton?"

"Oh, just place the cup on the side," he waved a hand over towards the side table next to him. "So, as I was saying… the salmon fishing around father's estate in Somerset is most excellent! You will, of course, not want to muddy yourself with the actual fishing of course. You'll be a lady of leisure when we marry. No need to raise yourself to do the slightest thing! I mean, the countryside is full of such delightful rivers and streams, jumping with fish! But it's not for _ladies_ to do!"

Mr Turton went to stand at the side of the room, behind Lord Ashton. 

Mrs Morgan shot him a despairing look. 

Mr Turton rolled his eyes and mimed a huge yawn. 

She looked down to hide a smile.

Lord Ashton turned around to Mr Turton - who just managed to smooth his features back to neutral before the Lord addressed him.

"You man!"

"Yes, Sir?"

"The flowers?"

"Unfortunately, they had greenfly, Sir."

Lord Ashton harrumphed, then turned back round towards Lady Morgan, and droned on some more about fishing.

Mr Turton rolled his eyes.

Lady Morgan raised a hand and stifled a laugh.

The clock struck three. Lord Ashton rose sharply.

"Ahh! Regrettably I have to leave earlier than I'd want to. I've an appointment at a shop that sells an excellent new line in fishing rods. I've to be there at four!" He advanced over to where Lady Morgan sat, grabbed her hand, crowding up to her proceeding to sloppily kiss her knuckles. 

Lady Morgan tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm. 

"You'll consider my proposal?"

"I don't think I can Lord Ashton…" she tried tugging her hand away again, but he moved nearer, not relinquishing his grasp.

The jug of milk went flying, spilling its contents over the Lord. Thus causing the irritation to promptly relinquish his grasp on Lady Morgan's person with a shout.

"Oh, I do apologise, Sir!" Mr Turton exclaimed. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the Lord's coat, only succeeding in making it worse by rubbing the liquid into the cloth. _That coat will fucking reek of rotten milk for months_ , he thought viciously.

-

Lord Ashton returned again the next day. 

_He really is a persistent bugger!_ Mr Turton thought as he ushered the annoying Lord into the drawing room. This time the tea tray was already there, ready and waiting, so that he had no reason to leave. Except to get rid of more disgusting flowers. Mr Turton once again threw a sorry looking bouquet onto Mr Jones's compost heap.

The dreary, one-sided conversation today was about trout. Being more like a lecture than a conversation though as he was the only one talking. _Does he even pause to draw breath?_ Mr Turton thought.

"The flowers?" Lord Ashton asked Mr Turton.

"There was no spare vase, Sir."

This time it was the cold tea from Lord Ashton's ignored cup that 'accidentally' went over him when he crowded too close to Lady Morgan and again wouldn't let go of her person.

-

The next day he's back again. 

The tea tray is all set and waiting in the drawing room again.

_Annoying fucker!_ Mr Turton thought as the Lord handed him some more horrendous roses, but this time, there's a ghastly vase as well. The Lord smirked at him. _Oh! Like that is it?_ Mr Turton narrowed his eyes as he strode downstairs. 

Mrs Brown's face was full of sympathy and amusement, as she observed Mr Turton. Chuckling as he mumbled and grumbled while rushing to place the flowers in the vase so he could return upstairs as soon as possible. She watched as he viciously stabbed the horrid flowers into the equally horrid vase.

He carried the repellent receptacle and it's poor excuses for flowers upstairs. Holding them out in front of himself as far away from his person as he could manage. Their scent was utterly vile and the water had turned to slime already.

The sound of arguing coming from the drawing room sped his steps.

"No please, you should stop! This isn't right! I didn't agree to anything of the sort!"

"But you invited me here these past few days! You cannot first tease me and then relinquish your affections thusly!"

"No! You invited yourself! And I have no feelings for you other than familial ones!"

Mr Turton stared as Lady Morgan tried to release her person from his grasp as Lord Ashton pawed and grabbed at her.

"Please stop, Lord Ashton!"

Mrs Morgan looked up at Mr Turton, silently pleading with him.

Mr Turton coughed loudly, announcing his presence, causing the Lord to spin and step back, relinquishing his hold upon her Ladyship. Mr Turton narrowed his eyes. As the Lord turned towards him, the horrid, smelly flowers and slime riddled water went all over Lord Ashton's head.

-

"Well, Mr Turton. Is that another Lord scared away then?" she cackled at him as he entered the kitchen. "You certainly got rid of Lord Ashton quickly enough!"

"That man is an utter _scoundrel!_ He should have been sent forth years ago!" The tea tray was placed onto the kitchen table with a thud and a rattling of the china service that rested upon it. "With his stupid _proposals!_ And his stupid _flowers!_ " his brow furrowed and his fists tightened. He'd told Mrs Brown some of what had occured upstairs on the previous days, but not all, keeping the more personal elements to himself as he guessed Lady Morgan would want him to.

"Why, Mr Turton… were you _jealous_?" she leant forwards, smiling over her dough covered hands from the other side of the kitchen table.

"Jealous? Of those _horrendous_ excuses for roses?"

"You _knows_ what I mean, Mr Turton. And you knows that it's no good being deliberately evasive with me," she smiled at his tuts and frown. "You care for her." She interrupted his spluttered protests. "Don't deny it!" she wagged a finger at him, causing a blob of dough to plop off the end of her digit onto the table.

"I…" he said softly. "I care for _all_ of you here. You've all helped to turn my life around. From what it was. From the… pit I'd fallen into…" he looked away, shaking his head.

"You cares for her more though. More than any of the rest of us." She noted his returned frown. 

"Maybe so… She helped me… gave me a chance when no one else cared to… she believed in me when no one else would have given two figs for me… the Trenchards… she…" he whispered, looking down, his voice trailing off. 

"And you do spend a great deal of time in each other's company." She smiled at his rolled eyes. "She relies on you overly, and I think you don't mind, but rather enjoy that, don't you Mr Turton?" she pushed.

"I'm her butler, it's only normal that I spend time in her company and that she should rely on me," he huffed. 

"You're very protective of her Mr Turton," Mrs Brown said softly. "What you did to Lord Byerly…"

He looked up at Mrs Brown, his eyes flashing.

"That fucker deserved the sound thrashing he received! _He hurt her!_ " His fists clenched at that memory, he'd never resorted to such base, violent behaviour before. Not in all his life in service.

He looked back up at Mrs Brown, his eyes burned brightly.

"But I know my place Mrs Brown. I know what the _proper_ order of things should be. She's a Countess, I'm a butler. That's where it ends. Yes, we are friends, as far as anyone can be friends with our differing stations. But there can be nothing more to it. Not on her part or on mine!" his voice grew in volume as he continued. "So you can stop with your _infernal_ _questions_ , woman!" His fists were clenched tightly and his teeth ground together as he glared daggers at her.

"Lord Ashton did get what was coming to him, I'll give you that much, Mr Turton," Mrs Brown smiled kindly at him, deciding to change the subject. To leave the former one be, noting his anger, denials and reluctance to talk on it, she did not want to push him any more. Not tonight anyway. 

"Ha!" He snorted. His features relaxed, his fists unfurled. "Any _fool_ who offers a Lady flowers like _those_ , thoroughly deserves them being tipped all over him!" Mr Turton snickered.

-

He made his way to the library that night, hoping to catch her, to check that she was alright after today's earlier occurrences. Between dinner and his duties, he'd not had a chance to speak with her privately since the eventful tea earlier that day. 

As he approached the room, he stopped, pausing in place in the doorway as he caught sight of the scene within. Lady Morgan must have arrived shortly before he had, as it seemed that she had just spotted the small bouquet of half a dozen fresh, white roses. He had bought the flowers early that morning, with money from his own pocket. Slipping out before anyone else was awake and placing them there, in the library, hoping that they would distract her from her worries. The perfect, milk white flowers sat in a vase on the window ledge, next to the spot on the sofa where she usually sat. He had spent an age in the florists, agonising over which delicate bloom was preferable over its mate. 

He stood still, frozen in the doorway, observing her, watching how she carefully approached the vase. Annoyingly, he could only see her profile as she bestowed a beautiful smile upon them, the flowers, his flowers. He saw how her face lit up, her expression softened. His keen eyes flicked downwards, noting how the corner of her mouth pulled her delicate lips upwards, a lovely smile spreading upon her face. Her hands came up to shyly hide her gasp of surprise. Then, one of her hands slowly reached out towards the vase and it's contents, her expressive fingers unfurled, extending out towards the blooms. Reaching forth to carefully touch and stroke each flower delicately, not wanting to risk ruining the beautiful display. She took a step closer and leant in towards them. Cupping a bloom that she'd decided was her favourite, leaning ever closer, bringing her face down towards her chosen flower. She closed the distance, burying her nose within the bowl formed by the flower petals, inhaling its heady scent, breathing it in. She pulled back, her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth fell open, a sigh escaped. 

He sucked in a breath, feeling awkward, as if he was intruding upon something extremely personal, something that should only be seen behind closed bedroom doors. His imagination lurked off into places it really shouldn't be trespassing into.

He watched again, mesmerised, as she treated the flowers in the exact same way he would have done. Reverently. Respectfully. _With love._

She turned, catching him before he could school his face away from the soft smile he was gazing at her with. He's not sure why she had turned, he hadn't moved, he had made no sound or even breathed to give himself away!

"Oh! Mr Turton," she whispered.

"My Lady," he nodded.

"These beautiful flowers…?" she motioned with a hand behind her at the vase, but kept her eyes fixed on him.

"Yes… I er… hoped they would be a… surprise… a distraction maybe?" 

"Yes. Thank you kindly. They were a most pleasing surprise, so very beautiful," she smiled up at him, taking a step nearer to him. 

"Yes… beautiful…" he took a step into the room, moving towards her.

"Thank you also, for earlier today," she took another small step away from the flowers and towards him.

"It was entirely my pleasure," he took another step, closing the gap between them.

"I'm certain it was!" she smiled, tilting her head to the side somewhat. "So… what happened to the _ghastly_ flowers Lord Ashton brought?" she asked.

"Oh. Those sorry looking, tawdry specimens?" he huffed. "They've been put to good use."

"Oh?"

"Yes! I put them in the compost, they're feeding the worms!" he smirked.

"How apt! More worms for his fishing!" she laughed. 

"Yes! So… you're happy with not accepting his proposal, I mean, you didn't really want to, you know, marry him?" he asked, wanting to be sure that he had taken the correct course of action. He was certain that he had, but something niggled at him, wanting to hear her speak aloud confirmation that he had.

"Oh! God no!" she shook her head. "I've never been interested in him like _that_ , ever since he first asked me when we were 8! With his _sticky_ fingers grasping at me! Same as now!" she scrunched her nose up. "And he was so rude to you!" she frowned. "You saw what he was like…" she shivered. 

"Well… hopefully he'll have got the message now, and will leave you be," Mr Turton reassured her.

"I do hope that today will be the last I see of him. If that is so, it will be entirely thanks to you and your quick thinking. I shall forever be grateful for your help… I'm not sure how things would have turned out, if not for you," she smiled up at him.

He preened happily at her thanks and praise of him. 

"He just talks and talks, not letting anyone get a single word in." Her voice lowered. "I can't talk to him, not then, not now." she paused and looked up at him. "Not like I can talk to you Mr Turton."

She turned back to the flowers. "A man's worth can be judged by the quality of the flowers he buys, don't you think?"

-

There's no Lord Ashton the next day.


End file.
